


Blame it on the Elf

by T Verano (t_verano)



Series: December, This Time Around [19]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: 2015 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "Christmas Eve", Christmas Eve fic, M/M, Randy the stuffed elf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2020-05-07 16:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: December with the guys a couple of years post-TSbyBS.It's Christmas Eve at the cabin. Which means tradition, right? With a bonus stuffed elf, naturally.





	Blame it on the Elf

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2015 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "Christmas Eve"

Blair yawned and rested his head against the back of the couch. "All I want to do tomorrow is sleep."

"All?"

Blair batted Jim's thigh half-heartedly. "Okay, we can have sex somewhere in there if you want. And open presents."

"Glad to see you've got your priorities straight, there."

Blair huffed a laugh, then yawned again. "Always, man." He settled himself more comfortably against Jim's side. "Not my fault I had a long week," he added. He rolled his head on the couch cushion to give Jim a pointed look. "Or very little sleep last night."

Jim shrugged. It was a smug-looking shrug. "Blame it on the elf."

The elf. Blair glanced at the armchair where the stuffed elf was currently sitting, its green-tights-clad legs stretched out in front of it and its jingle-belled shoes with their curled-up toes turned in towards each other. The smile on its face looked sort of knowing.

Which was fair enough; whether or not the elf had actually inspired Jim any last night (and this morning), it had certainly witnessed plenty to look knowing about and plenty for Jim to be smug about. Blair was feeling kind of smug himself.

Smug and stuffed — their now-traditional Christmas Eve picnic supper in front of the fireplace had been excellent — and selfishly pleased that today had been just him and Jim, and tomorrow would be just him and Jim, too.

Well, him and Jim and the elf. 

"I think we should call him Randy," he said, nudging Jim's arm. 

Jim snorted. "Chief, we are not naming a stuffed elf."

"Mmm," Blair said, neutrally. He'd been thinking about giving the elf to the twins when they had their Christmas-on-New-Year's-Day Ellison family celebration next week, but that was out, now. Not just because of the (probably entirely coincidental) effect elves had on Jim's libido — Randy just wasn't the kind of stuffed elf you could give to three-year-olds. Not after last night (and this morning); he'd seen too much.

Jim cleared his throat. "Hike out to the clearing tomorrow?" His voice sounded a shade too casual, and Blair frowned.

"Yeah, sure." That was traditional now, too: a Christmas morning hike to the meadow with a thermos of hot chocolate, and afterwards they'd go back to the cabin, pig out on eggs and bacon and coffeecake, and open presents. Jim knew that, so why did he sound so… well, like he wanted to make sure of it without sounding like he was wanting to make sure of it. "Something up?" 

Jim shook his head and gave Blair a smile that wasn't casual at all. It was distracting, though — one of his completely lethal melt-the-bones-inside-your-body smiles, and Blair… Okay, he melted. 

There was really only one practical response to that smile of Jim's. So what, if they were about to make Randy smile even more knowingly; it was probably good karma to keep your stuffed elf from being bored on Christmas Eve, anyway.

They were _definitely_ not giving Randy to the twins.


End file.
